


Time to Return the Favour

by HannahkinSkywalker



Series: If you're trapped in your head you might miss me [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Passive-aggressive fighting, Protectiveness, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahkinSkywalker/pseuds/HannahkinSkywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has been helping Steve get over his nightmares for months, but what has Steve done in return?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time to Return the Favour

**Author's Note:**

> Basically wanted to justify how Steve and Tony could get from being at each other's throats all the time to best buddies for the heartbreaking hell that will be Civil War, as it's not massively done in the movies. Plus I thought it was time Tony got a little sympathy. Written at 2am with no proofreading so I apologise for my word vomit. Enjoy your Stony fluff :)

Considering how much time Steve and Tony had spent together at night, they weren’t much closer to becoming friends outside of the bedroom. 

 

That sounds presumptuous, Tony thought to himself. All they did was lie next to each other, nothing more. Entirely platonic. The more he reassured himself the more homoerotic this whole situation seemed to Tony. He grimaced, more for show despite being completely alone in his workshop, shook his head and continued with his work.

 

He just couldn’t understand it. They spent at least three nights a week sharing a Steve’s bed now – Tony sometimes wished he could drag the soldier to his own bed, which was much roomier – and they still couldn’t seem to get along during the day. It was all harsh quips and disapproving stares. Considering these stares came from the star spangled man himself, Tony thought it was quite hypocritical. Tony’s working relationships with the rest of the team were shaky at the most, and with Bruce gone tensions were high. He supposed it would be a while before the others started to trust him after the Ultron incident, but at least most of the old team (and some of the newbies) were civil to him. Steve couldn’t seem to forgive him, despite the apologies and Tony striving to prove himself.

 

Wait, prove himself? Tony Stark was a billionaire in his twenties, and way past that now a good decade or so later. He was the playboy philanthropist. The whole world either wanted him or wanted to be him, so why would he need to prove himself to Steve, of all people? Some All-American freedom crap, he supposed.

 

Either way, the criticisms and sharp remarks were really starting to get on Tony’s nerves. This became more obvious as his frustrations started to be taken out on the dent he was hammering out of mark 42’s gauntlet. It had been bashed in Sokovia, and weeks later he still hadn’t gotten around the fixing it. His hammer whacked into it harder and harder until his hand started to ache, his face contorted in frustration. All he could picture was that stupid apple pie face smirking-

 

“Careful, you’ll give me a run for your money.”

 

Tony’s concentration lapsed only for a second as Thor’s baritone voice made him jump, but his body continued the movement 

 

Tony didn’t notice, but Thor was fighting to hide a mischievous grin as Tony shot his own hand into the air swearing violently and jumping around in a sudden release of anger and pain. He cradled the hand, glaring at Thor, even though the god didn’t deserve his anger. “Thanks. That’s broken. I’ll be out of commission for a good week now.” Thor’s only response was to snort, and make his way over to Tony, just to check on him. “A few fingers. You only really need one or two, the rest are spares. You’ll be fine.”

 

“Wow, thanks, Doc. Didn’t think I was gonna make it for a second there.” Tony quipped, raising his eyebrows in an annoyed, yet still pained, look. Thor shrugged. “Humans seem to enjoy comfort. Or at least a certain 90-year-old captain does.” Thor waggled his eyebrows suggestively, attempting to lighten the mood. “The others haven’t noticed your danger nights, but I have. Don’t worry, it’s between us.” The Thunderer grinned, as if hoping to gain some juicy gossip.

 

 “Yeah, well, I’ve half a mind not to give it to him, the smug little shit.” Tony glowered, obviously still fuming about Steve, but he was now channelling it into his now broken fingers. He needed to set them, but broken bones have a tendency to make you a little woozy, so Tony cut himself some slack.

 

“Trouble in paradise? And I thought you were starting to enjoy yourselves?” Thor prodded, implying there was something a little more to sharing a bed. Tony shook his head, pulling a face. “No, Thor. It’s not like that. I just felt sorry for the guy, and now it’s a habit. Saves both our time to just share a bed. Just sharing. You know, I’m trying to be nice, but he’s just being a constant ass. Ever since Ultron, he’s been riding on me, waiting so he can say ‘I told you so’ for just about anything. Really starting to piss me off.” Tony grumbled. No one really knew why, but Thor was just easy to talk to. He always listened, and wasn’t the bumbling idiot the news tried to portray.

 

“Well, to be fair to the Captain, you did royally fuck it up. Or that’s how I heard him explain it.”

 

Thor was good at listening, but he needed more work on his comfort skills.

 

Tony raised his glare from his fingers to Thor, and the god realised maybe that wasn’t the correct phrasing for the moment. “Ah, well I’m sure things said in the heat of the moment will clear up with sane heads. Stark, the two of you are friends. It may take Steve more time to come around, but he will.” And with that, he turned and left, popping his head back around the corner at the last minute. “You know, you’ll want to get those seen to. You can sulk later, Stark.”

 

Tony couldn’t help wondering if he and Steve really were friends. He helped the Captain out when he was having a hard time, but he couldn’t let a guy with untreated PTSD suffer on his own. It just wasn’t fair. Despite this, they didn’t really bond outside of that time. And since Ultron, Tony decided that Steve pretty much hated him, and it didn’t matter how close together they slept. Well, maybe Tony hated Steve too. Why bother helping him? Tony decided there and then he would be sleeping in his own bed that night, and carefully rose to get his now slightly swollen broken fingers to.

 

**...**

 

The shouting started at around 1AM. Tony hadn’t fallen asleep yet, stretched out in his own bed. It felt a little weird to have his limbs out so far, but he hadn’t minded up until now. Tony couldn’t make out the words that were being shouted next door, but he could tell they weren’t good. But what did he care? He didn’t care.

 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass.” He muttered to himself, sitting up. There was no point trying to sleep now, not with the muffled sounds of distress coming from Steve’s room. He crossed his arms, careful not to bash his bandaged fingers.

 

_Sir. I do believe Captain Rogers’ monitors are beginning to grow erratic._

 

Jarvis was now by some miracle both within the Vision’s and the Avengers Tower’s mainframe, meaning Tony didn’t have to lose the software he’d come to rely on. However, Jarvis had grown more sarcastic as of late.

 

“Yeah, who cares? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t. Let him run through his little tantrum. Once he shuts up we can all go to sleep.”

 

_I think you and I both know this isn’t a little tantrum, Mr Stark._ Jarvis interrupted. _And to assume it was would be a little ignorant, in my opinion, Sir._ The computer’s tone started to take on a more parental role, as if chastising Tony’s behaviour. “Yeah well, what do you know?” He snapped, trying to block out the sounds of fear coming from Steve’s room. “He shouldn’t rely on other people like that. It’s childish.” He muttered, justifying his reasons for staying put.

 

After about ten minutes of determined sitting, the shouting stopped. Suddenly. It didn’t die down in its usual pattern. It just stopped altogether. If Tony’s ears could have pricked up, they would. Why had it stopped so quickly? Was something else wrong? Why was he worrying about this when he’d spent all day telling himself he didn’t care?

 

_Sir, I think you should know someone else has entered Captain Rogers’ room._

 

Without even thinking, Tony sprang up from his bed, not listening to Jarvis’ identification of the intruder. Tony didn’t want the job of being in Steve’s company at night, but it was his, no one else’s. He yanked Steve’s door open to find a shadowy figure leaning over Steve’s sleeping body. The soldier’s face was hidden, but his body was eerily still. Tony caught a few soft words he couldn’t understand. Russian? Polish? Somewhere from that area. He wasn’t sure if he’d realised it was none other than Wanda Maximoff before or after he grabbed her and spun her around, ready to defend his friend, but that didn’t matter. Things were moving too quickly. Without taking time to think about his broken fingers, he swung at her, only to have his hand dragged out of the way by a soft, red mist. Seemingly in self-defence, Wanda snapped her hands towards Tony’s face and knocked him down, his legs refusing to work. It was happening again, he could feel it. Everyone dying at his feet, his friends fading, Bruce was gone, possibly forever, Steve hated him, Clint had better things to do with his growing family and Natasha seemed a few days from going into hiding. He was alone. Even Pepper didn’t have time for him. He was floating in space, not daring to breathe, silence breaking his eardrums, a chill rattling his insides. Alone.

 

“Tony!”

 

He jerked violently, his breath suddenly coming back to him all at once. He gasped and gaped, grabbing onto the nearest person, fingers digging into the soft cotton t shirt, his fingers howling in pain, or was that him?

 

“Tony! Tony, breathe. Look at me. You’re okay.”

 

The voice was right. Steve’s voice was right. Tony took a short moment to get his bearings. He was in his own room, sprawled on his bed, and tangled in the sheets. Steve was sat on the edge of the bed, gently coaxing Tony’s left hand off his arm, and checking on the bandaged fingers, which were still throbbing. Not much time could have passed, as the moon was still hanging high out the window, and a rather sheepish looking Wanda was stood by the door in soft red pyjamas, with little white flecks in them. They were almost Christmassy. Why was Tony focussing on them, on Wanda? Wanda...

 

He sat up sharply, glaring at the psychic. “You bitch-” He started, angrily trying to rise further while Steve held him down. “None of that, she was trying to help.” Steve spoke softly, but there was clearly some harshness behind there.

 

“It’s true. I heard the Captain’s cries, and thought I could help. You startled me. I apologise.” Her words came out surprisingly quietly. She almost seemed a little embarrassed. “I did not mean to enter your mind again.”

 

“Oh, but you’ve got no problem poking around in his?” Tony gestured to Steve, still glaring at Wanda. “What makes you think you had any right to put your nose into someone else’s business?”

 

“Well, there wouldn’t be any business to put her nose into if you hadn’t decided to sulk.”

 

The silence of floating in open space was nothing in comparison to the ebbing quiet Steve’s words had just caused. Tony glared at Steve. Steve glared at Tony. Wanda shuffled towards the door, taking this as her cue to leave. “I think you’ve got it covered. I’ll leave you to it.” She said coolly, obviously wounded by Tony’s accusations, but too prideful to make a scene. Tony and Steve stayed staring at each other long after Wanda had disappeared down the corridor.

 

 

“You think I’m sulking?” Tony snapped, pushing himself away from Steve, who had been leaning over the mechanic protectively. “Seriously? I’m allowed time on my own if I want.”

 

“Your _time alone_ is pointed and you know it. I thought we had an agreement. You’ve been an ass.”

 

“ _I’m_ being an ass?” Tony found Steve was really getting onto his last nerve now. “You’ve been treating me like crap ever since Ultron. All you’ve done is criticise me for months, normally I don’t care but it’s fucking rude when you’re meant to be sleeping together.” Tony exploded, all his pent up frustration coming out. “You think I don’t know I fucked up? I fucking well know that! Oh, sorry. _Language._ ”

 

Steve almost seemed to puff up in defence, especially at that last language retort. “That was the most idiotic mistake to make Tony, even for you. How could you have been so stupid?”

 

“Because I am stupid!” Tony volleyed. “I’m the stupid billionaire who doesn’t know what to do with his money so he throws it at alcohol and women, the stupid man with his head too far up his own ass to realise his great ideas may actually destroy the world. Is that what you want to hear? No. I’m stupid for wanting to help you. I’m stupid because I have my own nightmares to deal with, my own fucking PTSD to keep a lid on and no one seems to want to help with that but I help you anyway, because I know how fucking alone you can feel when night terrors start and you’re my friend, but never mind! Guess I was stupid to think that too.” At some point during the tirade Tony had stood up. He was now shaking, his hands rammed into tight fists. Steve was motionless, silent. “Oh. I thought-”

 

“Yeah, well you thought wrong.” Tony interrupted him. “I wanted to keep my friends safe, but it blew up in my face. In all our faces. I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say sorry for that.”

 

Steve was very quiet for a solid minute. Usually, minutes weren’t deemed to be a long time frame but this minute seemed to last far too long for Tony’s liking. “I’m sorry too. I should have- I just...” Steve almost seemed to deflate, the fight leaving him as he realised that despite his justified mistrust of Tony, he’d been a little harsh, maybe even inconsiderate.

 

“I’m going back to bed. See you.” Steve started to leave the room, clearly a little embarrassed that he hadn’t considered Tony’s own problems before his own. Tony watched Steve until he got to the door.

 

“Stop.” Tony’s words weren’t cruel, or overly soft. It was just a simple instruction. “Come on, you know it’ll save us the hassle.”

 

Tony knew it was a crappy way of showing he understood Steve, as the soldier now understood him, but it was all he had on the spot. Steve turned back to face him, suddenly looking a lot smaller, how Tony imagined he had before the War. Steve seemed not to believe it for a minute, but then came back across the room and slid into the bed, on the side he usually took, and lay down.

 

“Are we good?”

 

“Yeah. We’re good. Jarvis, lights.”

 

As darkness flooded the room again Tony didn’t feel as cold as he had earlier, or as unnerved. Maybe Steve helped Tony, just as much as Tony helped Steve. Tony felt a soft brush of skin against his arm as he drifted off to sleep, thinking that maybe they could be good for each other.


End file.
